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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26362282">Nothing Good Happens After 2 A.M.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cratedragonproductions/pseuds/cratedragonproductions'>cratedragonproductions</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alliance Commander - Freeform, Angst, Chaotic Neutral Smuggler, Character Study, Cutscene References, Don't try this at home kids, F/M, Post-Star Wars: The Old Republic - The Nathema Conspiracy, really bad coping mechanisms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:14:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,113</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26362282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cratedragonproductions/pseuds/cratedragonproductions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the Crisis on Umbara flashpoint, the Alliance Commander tries to cope with Theron's betrayal.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Theron Shan/Female Smuggler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nothing Good Happens After 2 A.M.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>The click of a blaster readying to fire. The steel in his eyes as he takes the shot. The sting in her chest as if he had shot her and not Lana.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "It’s over, Commander.” Commander. He used her title, not her name. “In a few minutes, this train will collide with that mountain range. You’ll be disintegrated and I’ll escape with the Adegan crystals. Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Is it real? “Did you love me, or was that all part of the act?” It’s dark, his face illuminated only by red flashes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Muffled, his mouth moved but she couldn’t hear what he said. Then, “this is bigger than us. Luring you into that trap on Iokath was just the beginning. Ever since you defeated Valkorion, everything I’ve done has been towards one goal…Your total destruction.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> She tried to run but was stopped by the ray shield separating them. She banged her fists, but it wouldn’t budge. She looked down at Lana, who was unmoving.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> "Thirty seconds to impact. This is goodbye.” As he turned from her, the red lights flitted over his face. Nothing.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> A blinding white light. “Theron!” she cried out. Nothing.</em>
</p>
<p>She bolted upright, covered in sweat. Nightmares again. And again. And again. It had been a month since the fiasco on Umbara and Feenstra didn’t know what to do. She had immediately tried to step down as Alliance Commander, but Lana wouldn’t let her; said she was still in shock, or something like that. But Feenstra could tell that her work was slipping. And people were starting to notice.</p>
<p>She had received comms from her allies expressing their sympathy for her situation. Betrayal. Everyone felt it. But it was different for her and they all knew it. Still, Feenstra was reaching the end of what they deemed an appropriate grieving time.</p>
<p>Her breaths were still pretty shallow as she rubbed her arms, trying to relax. She looked to her left. <em>Damn.</em> How many had it been at this point? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven. In one month. Lying face down with the sheets only covering his calves was a man whose name was currently slipping Feenstra’s mind. This one looked a lot like him. Theron. Except the ass.</p>
<p>In the beginning, the stand-ins looked nothing like him. Feenstra thought it’d probably be best to distance herself from anything that reminded her of him, but it didn’t help. There was that Togruta man that she had met on Nar Shaada. Blue skin, strong build, hooded eyes. Then there was that Mirialan that was most likely too old for her. There was Numen Brock, a Twi’lek from her Republic Privateer days that had made his way from Balmorra to Coruscant. She felt bad about leaving him alone in the morning for a second time. There was a Sith whose facial ridges almost felt like Theron’s cybernetic implants. Number five had a similar hairstyle, but the texture wasn’t the same. Or was that number six? Somewhere in there, there was one whose voice was just as deep as Theron’s, but he was much louder in bed. Feenstra kept wishing that one was over so that he would just shut up.</p>
<p>Then there was lucky number seven. The man with a different ass. He was the only one that Feenstra met on base. He was a grunt. Someone she first met in the cantina tonight but had seen near the starfighters before. She sighed. Lana was going to give her a lecture on professionalism tomorrow.</p>
<p>Feenstra slid off the bed, careful not to wake the man next to her. She went to her closet and pulled on a tank and some leggings. Perhaps a couple rounds with a training dummy would do her some good. She slipped on some boots, grabbed a jacket, and snuck towards the door, where she was met by HK-51, who had been acting as her bodyguard.</p>
<p>“Observation: Master, you appear to be out of bed. I have been instructed to ensure that you get eight hours of sleep, as that is the acceptable amount for most organics.”</p>
<p>“Uh, it’s alright, HK.” Feenstra hadn’t actually thought of what to say. The training rooms were supposed to be locked down at night. The entire base was supposed to be asleep, with the exception of some around-the-clock guards. “I—uh—just need to go to the bathroom.” It was not her smoothest lie, and apparently HK-51 thought so too.</p>
<p>“Statement: Your claim is unconvincing. Please return to your quarters immediately, Master.”</p>
<p>“Override Protocol Six-One-Eight,” she said as she stared at the droid’s optical sensors. HK-51’s chassis seemed to sag. It was a resetting protocol that Theron had helped develop for her. He would forget the last five minutes, which would undoubtedly cause him to frantically search for the missing data. She needed to hurry and get out of his sight; he would be back online soon. <em>Sorry, HK, but I can’t have you alerting Lana.</em></p>
<p>Trying to stay as quiet as possible, Feenstra sprinted towards the Military Hangar at the north of the compound. From there, she would find the training rooms. However, she had to be careful that she didn’t run into whatever poor sap that got saddled with the graveyard shift. What good luck! On the south platform, the guard appeared to be asleep. She supposed there was another walking around, but it was only ten meters between her and the closest training room.</p>
<p>She stayed low to the ground, hightailing and nearly overshooting the distance. There was a touch pad where she input Authorization Code 0723. A slight hiss from the opening door, and she slipped inside. It was a bright room, and like the rest of the base, hewn from the adamantine mountains of Odessen. Along the walls were storage cabinets filled with everything from blasters to vibroblades to thermal detonators. This room also had five training dummies.</p>
<p>Feenstra pulled one of the dummies towards the center of the sparring pad and took off her shoes and jacket. She stretched before starting a rep. This way and that. To the right. To the left. Breath in. Breath out. The set was from an old SIS training regimen that Theron suggested to her.</p>
<p>Jab, jab, duck. Jab, jab, duck. Her mind began to wander, her fists flowing through the familiarity of the exercise.</p>
<p><em>“Did you ever love me, or was that all part of the act?”</em> Jab, jab, duck.</p>
<p><em>“You know I love you.” </em>Jab, block, swing. <em>“But this is bigger than us.”</em> Jab, block, jab, jab.</p>
<p><em>What bullshit</em>, she thought. Jab, jab, duck. It was as if she never learned. <em>Risha was right.</em> Jab, block, swing.</p>
<p><em>“You’ve got to be careful with the feel-good ones,”</em> she remembered Risha saying. Jab, jab, knee. Jab, jab, knee. <em>“When they leave, it hurts more than with the others. Unfortunately, what girl doesn’t want to feel good?” </em>She had said that after Feenstra’s breakup with Darmas, and she had said that after Feenstra and Lana returned from Umbara.</p>
<p>Jab, kick, block. Darmas Pollaran was Feenstra’s first real relationship. She met him on Coruscant while trying to reclaim her ship from that son of a Murglak, Skavak. Jab, jab, hook. Darmas taught her how to play pazaak, how to dress for any occasion. He even got her on retainer as a Republic privateer. But in the end, he deceived her as well. Jab, block, jab, jab. He was an Imperial spy, and he didn’t care if she lived or died. In the end, she should’ve shot him. It's what Risha would’ve done. But she got sentimental. It wasn’t love. She knew it then and she knew it now. It was merely sentiment. Jab, duck, jab, block.</p>
<p>On the other hand, she loved Theron. That’s why this hurt so much more. Still, no Darmas meant no Voidhound. No Theron meant no Alliance Commander. <em>Stupid, kriffing Alliance! I wanted out after Valkorion!</em> Feenstra was a smuggler at heart; she never intended to continue as a military leader. <em>It’s Lana’s fault. No, it’s Theron’s fault.</em> She sighed. It was her fault. She should have left after the fall of Vaylin and Valkorion, stood her ground. But now she was in too deep and there was pressure everywhere keeping her in her place.</p>
<p><em>“You know I love you…but this is bigger than us.”</em> Block, jab, block.</p>
<p><em>“If you felt this way, you should have come to me first.”</em> Didn’t she always ask him for his opinion? Swing. Didn’t she put his feelings above her own—namely, Iokath? Kick. Didn’t she trust him with not only her life, but her secrets? Tackle.</p>
<p><em>“I wanted to tell you, but I knew you’d try to talk me down. I couldn’t take that risk.”</em> Swing. How long had he been planning this? Swing. Was it from the beginning? Swing. Where did the lies stop, and the truth begin? Swing. Was any of it real? Swing. Did the early morning cups of caf matter? Swing. What about the kisses to the temple when she was hunched over a holo terminal? Swing. What about how he knew she loved Five Blossom Bread with shuura? Swing. Or was that just information retrieval? Swing. What about when he would hold her at night, with his nose nestled in the crook of her neck? Swing. How could he make her doubt herself?</p>
<p>She looked down. She had pinned the dummy between her haunches. Where its face should have been was a swirl of red on white canvas, like the petals of a plom bloom blown across the snow. Her knuckles were raw and stiff, unwilling to release her fists. She swiped at her cheek and her hand came away purple. Her eyeshadow mingled with her tears, drawing channels of blue down her face. She needed to get cleaned up and out of here.</p>
<p>She stood up and tried to lift the dummy but cried out in pain and dropped it. The muscles in her hands were still incredibly tight. When she got the dummy right-side-up again—this time using her forearms—the head lolled to the back. <em>Damn, I must’ve broken the neck</em>. <em>Well, I got blood all over it anyway.</em> Feenstra went to one of the storage cabinets and gingerly pulled out a vibroknife. She sawed off the head and took efforts to dispose of it properly. <em>Ugh! Bey’wan’s never gonna let me back in here without supervision.</em></p>
<p>She found some gauze in a first aid kit nearby and tightly wrapped it around her knuckles, pulling the knots with her teeth. After cleaning up, she donned her boots and jacket and snuck out of the training room. She made sure she wasn’t spotted by one of the guards as she left—the one that had been asleep when she arrived had been awoken by his companion.</p>
<p>She still didn’t feel ready to go back to her quarters, given the fact that she had left a nameless man in her bed. <em>I could use a drink.</em> Once out of the Military Hangar, she headed for the south elevator. From there, she would go to the cantina just past the base entrance. It would be deserted, save for the droid that tended the bar. The cantina was supposed to be closed at this hour, but she supposed she could pull an override protocol if need be.</p>
<p>Feenstra sat in her usual spot, illuminated by the glow of the bar. After a day full of reading reports, Theron would often stroll in and sit right next to her. He’d watch her drink and tell her stories over the din of the jukeboxes. <em>They really play all night, don’t they?</em> She caught the lilting refrain of “Doe Azalus Ootmian” as she pulled her jacket tightly across her chest.</p>
<p>The bartending droid approached her, “Excuse me, Commander, but the cantina is closed for the night. I cannot serve you anything.”</p>
<p>Feenstra figured something like this would happen. “Yeah, but I’m the Commander and I want a bottle of Corellian whisky.”</p>
<p>“I must protest! That would go against my programming!”</p>
<p>Feenstra leaned over the bar and grabbed the droid by the rim surrounding his neck. “Get me the bottle or I’ll take it myself,” she threatened.</p>
<p>“Um, yes, Commander,” the droid answered timidly. Feenstra let go of him, allowing him to retrieve her spoils: one bottle of Corellian whisky and a shot glass. “Is that all you’ll be needing, Commander?”</p>
<p>“For now,” she waved him off. He’d probably go alert Lana that she was here, but by the time her Spymaster got here, she wouldn’t know up from down. And that suited her just fine.</p>
<p> Feenstra uncorked the bottle and poured a full shot. She threw her head back, feeling the burn make its way down her throat. It was Theron who got her hooked on whisky. He’d have a shot every night before bed. Maybe because he used the alcohol to fall asleep, maybe because she’d been drinking it long before the legal age under Republic jurisdiction, but she could always drink him under the table.</p>
<p><em>“You mean a lot to me. I’d do anything to protect you.”</em> Theron’s words to her before Umbara bounced around her skull. <em>“This time I’ll have your back.”</em></p>
<p><em>More like, stabbed me in the back.</em> She poured herself another shot and downed it in one gulp.</p>
<p><em>"You know I love you…but this is bigger than us.”</em> No matter what she did, those words seemed to spring forth, unable to resist torturing her. Refill.</p>
<p><em>“I love you too. Now go on—save us all from a fiery death. We’re counting on you.”</em> He said that to her on Iokath before she went to find the superweapon. Tyth, the one who warned her about a traitor in her midst. How could she not see that the traitor was in her own bed? Refill.</p>
<p><em>"Whatever happens down there, I just wanted to say…I love you.”</em> The first time he had said those words to her, she knew that she loved him too. <em>“You’re going to look great sitting on that throne.”</em> How could he claim that she was a symbol of oppression when he pushed her to take the throne?</p>
<p>Feenstra downed another shot. She hadn’t breathed a word of the letter he sent her following her message for him on the HoloNet. Initially, she hadn’t told Lana thinking her Spymaster would have seen it anyway. But Theron knows how to cover his tracks; he could send an encrypted message safe from prying eyes if he wanted to.</p>
<p><em>“I wish I could drop everything and leave with you, somewhere away from all this war and death. But that’s just a nice dream—reality is much harder.”</em> How dare he throw it back in her face when he knew she wanted to leave? <em>“Trust that everything I do is for the good of the galaxy.”</em> Maybe she was tired of playing hero all the time. Maybe she just wanted to go back to being a smuggler. <em>“I don’t expect you to understand. But however this ends, I just want you to know that I loved you from the moment I saw you. And I always will.”</em> That was just unfair.</p>
<p>She took another shot, relishing the liquid fire. He had titled his letter “I love you,” but if he really loved her, why would he put her through this heartbreak? Her throat hadn’t stopped burning from the previous shot when she took another. The whisky was doing its job: she could no longer feel the pain in her knuckles, but she’d be damned if she didn’t feel it in her head later. Nine shots in, she decided that maybe she ought to forget tonight, or did she already decide that? She’d been in nothing but pain anyway. She would reach her limit pretty soon.</p>
<p>By the time Feenstra reached shot number eleven, she was hunched over the bar. That was how Lana found her. Dressed in a green robe and an expression that read as half-annoyance, half-concern, Lana shuffled over to her friend. Clearly, she had just woken up.</p>
<p>“Feenstra, it’s late. You shouldn’t even be here,” Lana said with a yawn. She eyed the bottle next to the shot glass. Only half its contents remained. “How many of those did you have?” She sounded concerned.</p>
<p>Feenstra rolled her head up, a dazed grin plastered on her face. “Twelve.” She sounded proud. “Yes, twelve shots of Corellian whisky.” At this, she lifted her hands and feigned shooting from her fingers.</p>
<p>Drawn to the sight of her bandaged knuckles, Lana cried out, “What in blazes did you do to your hands?”</p>
<p>Smug as ever, Feenstra crossed her arms over her chest. “I smashed them,” she said proudly.</p>
<p>Lana took one of Feenstra’s hands into her own, turning it over and testing each of the fingers. “You’re lucky you didn’t break anything.”</p>
<p>Feenstra snatched her hand back. “Who’s to say I didn’t break anything?”</p>
<p>The hour was late and Lana was convinced that it would be pointless to rationalize with her when she was like this. Besides, the reason behind her drunken state was no mystery. This wasn’t the first time this month that Lana had to come to the cantina in the middle of the night to fetch the Commander.</p>
<p>“Feenstra, this isn’t healthy. I understand how you feel—we have all felt betrayed by Theron—but you’ve got a responsibility to the galaxy, one that you can’t keep if you continue to drink like this.”</p>
<p>Feenstra scowled. “Who says I’m here because of <em>Theron</em>?” she said defensively. “Maybe I just got thirsty.”</p>
<p>Lana replaced the cork in the bottle. “Come on, it’s time to go.” She attempted to drag Feenstra off her stool, but the Commander wouldn’t budge. “Oh kriff, here it comes,” she said under her breath.</p>
<p>“No! I want to ride the mechanical reek!” She sprung out of her seat and sprinted towards the southeast corner. Oh look! Theron was already up there! He gave her a hand to help her onto the reek. When she reached out, she didn’t feel the tight clasp of his gloved hand. Instead, she stumbled, and fell backwards.</p>
<p>“Feenstra! Are you okay?” Lana raced over to her friend, helping her to her feet.</p>
<p>Feenstra looked back at the mechanical reek. Theron was nowhere in sight. She put an arm around Lana’s shoulders, and they walked towards the base entrance. “Wasss anyy of it reallll?” she slurred. Her eyes were fluttering closed.</p>
<p>“Don’t do that. Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, Commander.” She lightly tapped the other woman’s cheek.</p>
<p>“Hey Lana, I need to tell y’somethin’. I don’t—I don’t want to be the Alliance Commanderrrr…anymore.”</p>
<p>“That’s the whisky talking, not you,” Lana responded automatically. They’d been through this exercise before.</p>
<p>“Yeah, but like, if I’m not the Commander, I can go ride an aiwha.” She looked at Lana as seriously as she could given her inebriated state. “I’ve always wanted to ride an aiwha.”</p>
<p>“If you help me get you back to your room, we can go ride aiwhas, alright?”</p>
<p>“Promissse?”</p>
<p>Lana figured that Feenstra was well into her blackout phase, but she didn’t want to take any chances. “Maybe, if we get you back to your room in one piece.” They reached the elevator.</p>
<p>Feenstra’s eyes opened wide. “I can’t go back to my room!”</p>
<p>“What? Why not?”</p>
<p>Feenstra giggled. “I left a man in there. His ass is not as yummy,” she stated matter-of-factly.</p>
<p>Lana felt her cheeks tinge pink. “Kriffing hell,” she said under her breath. Tomorrow, she and the Commander were going to have a talk. She reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a comm. “HK-51, do you read me?”</p>
<p>“Confirmation: Yes, Master Beniko,” came through albeit slightly staticky.</p>
<p>“Can you please go into the Commander’s quarters and see if there’s a man in there? If so, could you please remove him?”</p>
<p>“Statement: It shall be done.”</p>
<p>Lana stuffed the comm back into the pocket of her robe and clutched Feenstra’s side. This would be much harder if she fell. The elevator ground to a halt, opening to the war room.</p>
<p>“Lana. La-na,” Feenstra prodded her nose.</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s me,” she answered.</p>
<p>As they reached the hallway leading to Underworld Logistics and Feenstra’s quarters, the pair saw a man scurry towards the barracks, half-dressed. He must’ve been terrified of an HK droid looming over him in his sleep.</p>
<p>Still leaning on Lana, Feenstra raised her free hand in greeting. “Eeyy! Wassuuup?” she said to the man leaving. He didn’t say a word; he merely glanced at her, trying to put as much space between him and the HK.</p>
<p>When they reached the door to her quarters, they were met by her trusty HK. “Query: Master, where have you been? Are you not supposed to be sleeping?”</p>
<p>Before Feenstra could say anything, Lana spoke up. “It’s alright, HK. I’m just going to put her to bed first. She’s been at the cantina.” She led the Commander up the small flight of stairs that separated her bed from the reception area. She sat her friend down on the bed and went to remove her boots.</p>
<p>“Sometimes, Lana, I wisssshhh you didn’t unfreeze me from the carbonite.” She was drunk, but the words still stung.</p>
<p>“If that’s what you think now, just wait until you feel the headache in the morning.” She helped Feenstra lay on her side, head supported by her left arm. She went to the sink in the corner of the room and filled a glass with water. “Drink this and yell for HK if you need anything.”</p>
<p>Feenstra reached up and grabbed one of Lana’s sleeves as she was turning to leave. “Lana, when’s Theron coming back?” she asked groggily. It sounded so innocent, but how could she explain it when Feenstra wouldn’t understand?</p>
<p>“Um, soon maybe. Just go to sleep.”</p>
<p>Feenstra’s arm dropped and Lana made her way towards the door. But before she left, she could hear a soft, “I miss him,” coming from the back of the room.</p>
<p>The next morning, Feenstra stumbled into the Alliance staging room in an old outfit from her smuggling days: white shirt, tall boots, blue accents. Lana was at the computer terminal; an image of Theron and a star map emulated from the holo.</p>
<p>“How’re you feeling?” the Sith said without looking up.</p>
<p>“Like a load of drutash castings. Got an extra mug of caf around?”</p>
<p>Lana waved her hand towards the table. Sure enough, there was a full mug waiting for her.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Feenstra said. She winced as she took it; her knuckles had just begun to scab over and the room felt like it was spinning. “Hey, sorry about last night. I—I don’t have any excuse.”</p>
<p>Lana scoffed as she faced the Commander. “Feenstra, you can’t keep doing this. Bey’wan tells me that your access code was used to get into one of the training rooms last night, that one of the dummies was decapitated, and that they found traces of your blood on the sparring pad. Then, I find you slumped over the bar and unwilling to go back to your room because you left a rookie pilot in your bed. We’ve had to send him reparations, by the way, and ask that he refrain from disclosing the delicate nature of last night’s events. You are the Commander, whether you like it or not. You need to take this seriously.”</p>
<p>Feenstra had nothing to say. Lana was right.</p>
<p>She continued, “I’m also concerned about Theron—blast! How many years have we worked together? —but what you’ve been doing isn’t helping anyone.”</p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>Lana nearly did a double-take. As much as she cared for Feenstra, she was aware of her faults, her inclination to duck from responsibility one of them.</p>
<p>“As of right now, our priority is to search for and capture Theron Shan. He has become a threat to the Eternal Alliance. But we’re taking him <em>alive</em> and in one piece. He needs to answer for his actions.” The Commander’s face was grim but set.</p>
<p>Lana nodded her approval. “Right then, down to business. I just approved a landing request from an unarmed shuttle from the Chiss Ascendancy.”</p>
<p>“What are we waiting for?” Feenstra and Lana turned to leave for the Hangar. Lana understood the Commander’s words. She was trying to place purpose before feeling, something that the Jedi were known for. It contradicted the philosophy that Lana lived by, but perhaps a Jedi teaching was just what they needed to see this through.</p>
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